Remus Lupin and the Kryptonite Stone
by Enigmatic Quasar
Summary: Spoof on Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's stone. With as many attempts at copyright infringement .read:guest appearances. as possible. Not for purists. This is my first time, so please review the thing.
1. Chapter 1 Happiness and Gaiety

**Chapter 1**

**Happiness and Gaiety**

Remus awoke with a start. The last few nights had been less than perfect. But then, so had been the last 32 years. He tried to turn away from the sound but it had the irritating quality of most other sounds you didn't want to listen to. It didn't go away.  
Cursing under his breath, he peeped out of his ragged quilt. Mrs. Dumbledore was still shouting her brains out at him for being such a lazy bum.

"I don't know why we even took you in, Lupin. If you hadn't been my Mother's nephew's lost dog's less than best friend…"

This hurt Remus. After all, he was sure the dog had eventually been found. He nursed his pain and picked himself up from his bed, letting go of the stray thought to change his bed sheet this year. "It's only just September", he told himself.

But then, this was to be the day he would finally leave this place. His thoughts drifted to the nights before…

For the first time in his life, he had received a letter. It wasn't another one of those addressed-to-occupant subscription ads for Punjab Kesari (burnt for warmth) or playboy (greedily answered) either. It was an actual letter addressed to "Master… eh… Mister Remus Lupin". Of course… Mr. Dumbledore had promptly gone bonkers and confiscated it before he could as much as read the first line. Well, not bonkers really… He was really affectionate in taking it from Remus. A little too affectionate.

He had then proceeded to put it with his collection of other "gay" literature leaving Remus to wonder at the pun.

But the sender had refused to give up. As vehement as Mr. Dumbledore had been in bear hugging the letters off Remus, the sender had been more so in sending them to him. He tried everything… burning them, shredding them and even making them into little airplanes he used to tease the next-door Mr. Modi (no matter that Mr. Modi would go livid and keep threatening the wrath of 5 crore proud Gujaratis).

But the sender would not budge. You'd think some insane telemarketer finally married an ignorant postmaster and made the world pay the price… but the truth were to bring far more paper into the world than that. At least "she" thought so.

This continued for about a month and a half without either side relenting. Even Mr. Modi was close to finally giving up. But the silence was not to be. Things finally came to a melodramatic closure last night.  
Mr. Dumbledore had just finished his routine letter burning for the day. Part of him was almost hoping the person at the other end would remain this immutable. He hadn't paid the gas company in nearly a month now.

But then, suddenly, there was this loud thud on the door.

Mr. Dumbledore was startled. Had Modi finally come to his senses and decided to return his calls er… airplanes? So he said, "Has Modi finally come to his senses and decided to return my calls er… airplanes?". Mr. Dumbledore was obviously not without a sense of humour.

So Mr. Dumbledore went and opened the door. And he was struck dumb (Author's note: Get it? Dumb… Door? No, of course you don't. Never mind). For what Mr. Dumbledore saw in the hallway nearly took his breath away. Standing in his doorway was this immaculate specimen of humanity. Blue tights, an S painted on an otherwise perfectly good T-shirt and a self- righteous expression that could shame possessive girlfriends across the world.

Suffice to say; Mr. Dumbledore was "up, up and away".

And then the stranger in blue spoke, "Where's Remus?" But Mr. Dumbledore would have none of it, "Take me instead".  
But as narrative would have it, neither would the copyrighted stranger, so he said, again, "Where is Remus?" Only this time it was more of a shout that could shame irritated mothers across the world.

And Remus, being no stranger to melodramatic scenes, being a rather regular watcher of the Oprah Winfrey show, rushed to the scene.  
"Who's this?" He said.  
"Why, I'm Superman™! I brought you here when you were a wee li'l laddie. And I've been practicing my Scottish accent ever since."  
"What do you want from me? I barely have enough to cover myself"  
(Mr. Dumbledore sighed audibly.)  
"Remus… I've come to take you away. For yer first year in Magic school. Why, haven't you rec'eed yer letter, laddie?"  
Remus replied, "Well no, I haven't. I have been getting these letters day in and day out but Mr. Dumbledore just tells me they're just more Punjab Kesari subscription forms."

No sooner than he had heard this, the stranger was at Mr. Dumbledore's throat, "You didn't tell him, old chap? Uncharming. Do you have any idea how much the lot of us at the school have waited for the day. Distinctly ghoulish. Old man, do you have any idea how long I've been practicing my British accent?"

Rather unable to control his urges (Superman, this time), he just picked Mr. Dumbledore up and chucked him across the room. And just as he was about to start speaking in his long practiced Chinese accent, Remus interrupted, "What is this all about?"

"Of carse, my san." (He had really practiced the thing, apparently) "Yau're a wizald. And I've come to take yau away to a vole nuu wolld."

Fate had come for Remus. A really horrible Chinese accent notwithstanding (Superman clearly needed more practice with the dang thing).  
And so finally, last night, Mr. Dumbledore had given up. Or had been made to. So he handed the letter to Remus with these now famous words "With great power comes great responsibility", again leaving Remus to wonder over his guardian's choice of men in tights.

He had finally received the letter. He had waited his entire life for this moment without actually knowing about it. The mysticism was palpable. He had been admitted to the "Pigs-have-warts school of magic and other rhetoric". At least that's what the letter said.

It had all seemed like a dream. But then, there was meaning to his life after all. There was some hidden truth behind all of it. Remus Lupin wouldn't merely be known as the boy er… man who celebrated every New Year with a new bed sheet. He would now be something better. "The boy er… man who made it out alive," sounded grandiose enough.

Superman spoke, "Vill be livin' tamorraw morn'n Remu laddie. And NO, I'll be sleeping alone, Dumbledore. Pack your stuff by then."

Looking back, life had been tough. But Remus had somehow held on. It had taken a lot out of him over the 32 years he'd spent with the Dumbledores in their protection, but now he knew things were finally going to get better. That he would no longer have to bear Mrs. Dumbledore's constant shouting and Mr. Dumbledore's constant advances at him.

Again, he forced himself to let go of another stray thought "Why'd she have to declare he was gay?"

Of course, others he knew had gotten the letter before him. So many of them had. "How many were there again? Um… let's see… one two three four five six seven eight nine ten" (pause to take off left shoe) "eleven and twelve. Argh". He hated having to overload his brain every time the author took a mathematical liberty.

But what hurt more was his heart. Because Remus Lupin, like most heroes of melodramatic tales yet untold, was in love. Her name was Nymphadora Tonks a.k.a. Nymphomania Bonks. She was everything he could ever have asked for in a woman. Beauty, intellect and an agreeable nickname. Especially an agreeable nickname.

Remus was sure she had received her letter this year alone. At least that's what the war-horn loud cries of "I've got my letter! I've got my letter!" seemed to hint at. And so, she and Remus would finally be together. "Things" were looking up.  
He himself sighed rather audibly.

"Do you need something in there?", came the Mr. Dumbledorish voice from outside, again leaving Remus to wonder at the pun. It seemed he was doing a lot of it these days.

Having his thoughts interrupted twice, once by a flashback and then by a flasher, Remus decided the time had come. So his picked up his bags and bid goodbye to his room.

"Don't change", he told his bed sheet affectionately. And then wondered why nobody else was laughing at the joke.

"Oh, yeah", he realized.


	2. Chapter 2 Fancy Of Flights

Chapter 2 Fancy of Flights 

Remus reached downstairs, thanking his stars that the gap between chapters was enough to let his cursing-about-heavy-luggage go unnoticed. He never really understood why he was shown so decrepit and still had so much luggage.

His eyes drifted to each of the occupants of the room into which he'd walked. They were all there, a medley of emotions. From a sanctimonious superhero to a harassed housewife to a gay I'm-not-sure-what-relation-goes-here.

He was sure he'd never see 66.66 of those present again. At least not until the author recharged his stock of ungainly humour. But there was time to go for that. And for now, Remus finally had a life to live. He gave up the collection of sixes without wondering at the pun. Apparently he had been practicing.

"T' be t'me, Remu laddie, we must leave this place that has given you so much pane o'er the yee'rs. And besides, that wallpaper stinks, aye", said Superman, his grasp of the obvious more than easily apparent.

And so it came to pass, Remus Lupin would no longer be a guest of the Dores. He had found his window (Author's note: Sorry. That was nigh irresistible).

He was now an alumnus of The Pigs-have-warts school of Magic and other rhetoric. Remus secretly wondered if they had special courses in rhetoric. He was fairly certain he hadn't written a good love letter in sometime and after all, nymphomania could only take you that far.

But before flowers could pop out of Remus' boyish er… manly er… Never Mind mind, Superman picked him up and bid adieu. Before Remus knew what'd happened, he was touching the sky. The house was a fading memory, it's occupants but dust, waving goodbye as they were various bodily appendages.

"Do all magicians fly?" asked Remus?

"Yea, laddie, but they have to use brooms and sticks and what not, aye. Though all of them 'take off' when they hear my Australian accent", came the reply from Superman, wondering why nobody was laughing at the joke.

"Oh yeah", he realized.

"But what about you then, Superman? I don't see any wood… though you have been known to be the type who has sticks up his behind."

And before Remus could wonder why nobody was laughing at the joke, Superman spoke, "It's because of the power of the sun, Remus. It gives me this beautiful tan and lets me fly. I'm almost invincible except for… well…"

"Except for what, Superman?"

"Can't tell you boy. The less who know the better. I came across it once before, and it left me scarred. All that remained of me was a babbling idiot. It's only after years of expensive psychotherapy that I've been able to forget the trauma."

"But what about the undies on top and the accents? Are you sure you've fully recovered?"

The lack of a reply told Remus that this was the mandatory dark undercurrent of every story. And he knew better than to ask about it in the second chapter… "How will I act clueless in the remaining chapters then?" he wondered.

"We can't stay at this low altitude. We might be spotted. You'd think they'd give me a less conspicuous costume." "Hang on, we're going up", said Superman in two rapid albeit disjointed sentences.

"You might lose consciousness for sometime, Remus. But don't worry, we'll be there soon", he said, adding a third to the list.

And before Remus could venture a why, true to biology and physics and chemistry, he fainted, the sound of Superman's voice sounding faint in his ears…

"I wish you'd take a bath sometimes, Remus"


End file.
